Introduction
It’s hard to blog during the holidays, or so I tell myself. Too many distractions! On top of that, another distraction presented itself recently that has lodged itself so firmly in my brain, I can’t move on, so I have decided to make it this week’s post. Read on because things are about to get weird.
(By the way, I’m typing with a sprained, or at least wanged, wrist so I’m gonna go fast and not worry too much about literary polish … bear with me.)
A weird note
I was minding my own business on Sunday when my wife said, “We got a weird note slipped under our garage door today.” I was immediately concerned.
It would be weird for a neighbor to leave a note, obviously, since they could just knock on our door, wait until the next time we’re out front, or even just text. Unless they’re really upset about something and don’t want to put us on the spot … but then, we’re pretty easy neighbors these days now that our kids’ multi-keg ragers are a thing of the past. (Kidding! I mean, not to insinuate the multi-keg ragers are still going on … I mean, they never were. As far as I know or remember.)
So, I reasoned, this must be some random passerby leaving a note. And that’s not automatically a bad thing—it could have been something simple like, “The light in your crawl space is on,” which would have actually been true up until Saturday when I finally mustered the resolve (being claustrophobic) to crawl in there and turn it off. But Saturday being in the past, and the note having been described as “weird,” its message would have to be something like a) “I know why your crawl space light was on,” or b) “I turned on your crawl space light … guess how?” or maybe something even more disturbing. But the theory of Occam’s Razor would say the note most likely had nothing to do with the light in our crawl space.
It was still possible to imagine a note from a rando that wasn’t full-on disturbing. For example, somebody once left a note on my Scion XB, a toaster-shaped car I inherited from my late father, that read, “I will pay you OVER BLUE BOOK for this car, RUNNING OR NOT!” with a phone number listed. I was a bit offended, actually. I mean, why would this rando assume there was a good chance my car isn’t running? Do I look like the kind of derelict who keeps a broken-down car parked in front of his house? I was tempted to incorporate the rando’s number in some graffiti, e.g. “FOR A GOOD TIME CALL…” on a bathroom wall.
Not that the car purchase offer was weird, exactly. Of course the Scion would attract potential buyers, it’s totally gangsta! So what would a “weird” note say? My mind raced, trying to imagine someone I might have had crossed paths with who subsequently might feel like leaving a weird note … unfinished business, perhaps? Naturally the first guy I hit upon was the junkie.
The junkie
Now, before you get all judgmental on me for jumping to conclusions about this or that vagrant being a probable junkie, I’m talking about an actual known junkie. A few years ago my wife and I started finding these small squares of aluminum foil in our front yard, burned black on one side. You can imagine this was a bit disconcerting. My wife called the police non-emergency line, and an officer came out. I chatted about it with him, and he confirmed that the foils were from black-tar heroin, and he was pretty sure he knew who was smoking it. It was this 20-something who lived with his mom a few blocks away, who liked to smoke the heroin in his mom’s Mercedes. I spotted the car not long after but only as the guy was pulling away from the curb. I later discovered where the guy lived (or at least parked most of the time). I thought about leaving a note on his car saying, “Please stop smoking heroin in front of my house,” but I wasn’t sure the admonishment would be taken in the right spirit.
Well, a week or so later, I was about to head out for a bike ride, and was in the driveway pumping up my tires (still wearing flip-flops, not yet my cycling shoes, which as you shall see is important). A little old lady happened by walking her dog and started to chat me up. As we talked, I suddenly became aware that the junkie was parked right out front, in broad daylight, getting his fix! The moment was very awkward; I couldn’t exactly tell the little old lady, “Excuse me, I’m enjoying our chat but I need to step away for a moment and terrorize this junkie.” Fortunately she soon continued on her way, and I ran over to the driver’s side door of the Benz. I was going to pound on the window and give the guy a piece of my mind, confident that if the situation devolved into fisticuffs I would have two advantages: a) my opponent was high and I was not, and b) I alone was wearing a helmet. But he saw me coming, put the car in gear, and took off. I ran after him, right down the middle of the street, rounded the corner, and followed him up the next street, as fast as I could. By the time he took the corner onto his street, I was too out of breath to continue, which was fine … I figured I’d made my point. And in fact, this was proved out: the guy never again parked in front of our house. And in case you’re one of my neighbors who has stumbled across this post and are now livid that I’m disclosing information publicly that could lower property values, this was years ago and I haven’t seen that car, nor any burnt foil, in quite a while. The guy was an anomaly. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have left the mysterious note last Sunday, something like, “I had found your curbside a safe space in which to enjoy my self-medication and it really hurts my feelings that you ran me off.”
To be clear, I didn’t ponder all of this at length, and the amount of time it took you to read the above background is just because you’re getting the story for the first time. For me, all of that flashed across my mind in like a second, with basic images working like macros to swiftly convey the themes: neighbor, rando, crawl-space, black-tar heroin. Within a second that was all past and I was holding out my hand and saying, “Let me see the note.”
The actual weird note
Okay, here is the note (click to enlarge):
There’s so much that’s weird about it, right? First off, it’s on a ripped-off piece of grocery bag, like the guy didn’t have a notepad or even a piece of junk mail to write on. Then, the note starts out in cursive (an arguably odd choice for a rando who scrawls notes on scraps), and then becomes a mix of lowercase and uppercase print. It also mentions CBS, a network that has become so obscure, in this modern above-the-network, cable-cutting Internet era, that I wasn’t even sure they were still on the air. I mean, CBS? Really? I hadn’t been this mystified since that one time my dad said, “Is there a Sears around here? I need to buy some trousers.”
It’s also a little weird to say that a show is both funny and worth seeing … I mean, aren’t all funny shows worth seeing? And doesn’t the fact of the note automatically suggest the show is worth seeing? Who would leave a note saying, “There’s a show on CBS but don’t bother”? I was further nonplussed by the note saying, “on Sunday night,” since the note was left on Sunday. Why not just “tonight”?
Then there’s the matter of the time specified. You’d think that somebody who bothered to write a note recommending a show would be a bit more careful writing out the number. I think it looks like an 8, as does my wife, but our younger daughter emphatically declared that it’s a 5. Her friend S— initially thought it was a 5 but then agreed it actually does look more like an 8. This number is important because if I’m to track down this mystery, I’ll need to see what the show even is. That could help; after all, if it’s a stirring (and yet funny) documentary about a reformed heroin addict, everything would snap into place.
I checked the listings. At 8:00 p.m. there was a sitcom called “The Neighborhood” on CBS. The description on IMDB makes it sound pretty stupid: “A white-bread couple from the Midwest moves to the hood and turn to milquetoast when they try to befriend their rough, street-tough and intimidating neighbors.” I watched a few trailers and man, if those are the highlights, this show is far from funny. In terms of critical reviews, Common Sense Media says, “Regressive racial attitudes and bad jokes mar family sitcom.” So whoever left this note has pretty poor taste.
Unless … this person is tweaking me? Casting aspersions on my taste? But then wouldn’t the note say something more like, “You’d probably like this”? Nothing about the note made sense.
I checked the listing for 5:00 p.m. and all it said was, “Local Programming.” Not sure what that means, though it brought to mind our old independent station in Denver when I was growing up that would show low-budget shows like “All Star Wrestling.” And my brothers and I would actually watch them, because that’s how little we cared about our time and our brains back then. (Yes, I find this as disgraceful as you do.) Anyway, I didn’t worry too much about that because it looks like an 8 on that note. And would 5:00 p.m. wouldn’t really be “night,” would it?
There is exactly one neighbor (i.e., non-rando) I thought might have left the note. He lives a couple blocks away but often passes by while walking his dog. Of course his handwriting and diction would be better, but who knows, maybe he was heading home after one of the neighborhood multi-keg ragers or something. It was just so easy to inquire, I went ahead and sent him an email asking if he’d left me a note. He promptly replied, “No I didn’t. Besides, I’m more of a severed-horse-head-on-the-pillow-next-to-you kind of message-giver.” (I shall endeavor to stay on his good side.)
Soliciting theories
My wife and I talked over the possibilities about this note. Her theory is that somebody was trying to break into our garage to steal stuff, and had the note on hand in case he got caught—he could just say he was leaving a note. But I’m not buying it, because there was no damage to the door; it would have been a broad daylight break-in when we were obviously home; nothing in the garage would really be worth stealing; and, since the rando wasn’t caught in the act of anything, why did he leave the note? Furthermore, why would it be such an unrealistic one, scrawled messily on a scrap?
I texted a photo of the note to P—, a friend of mine, asking for his theory. He suggested the note was from a spurned lover. He might have been implying that my wife has been cuckolding me, or he was casting aspersions on my fidelity. Most likely he was being sarcastic or at least facetious. I replied that a spurned lover would send a perfumed letter, or attach the note to a brick thrown through my window. I also pointed out that a spurned lover would be more likely to recommend a Lars von Trier film than an insipid comedy. P— replied, “I think this person is dumbing it down to your intellectual level … I know the truth hurts.” As you’ve gathered by now, this input was not helpful in solving the mystery.
My younger daughter suspects it’s a homeless guy who somehow had the chance to see this show and is using all the influence he has, and the tools available, to recommend it to others, sliding notes under as many doors as possible, and that there’s nothing special about us to explain why we received it.
Her friend S— has a slightly similar theory: that’s it’s one of the producers of the TV show, promoting it in a grassroots way. In this latter case, I wondered aloud why this promo was on a scrap of paper, handwritten , instead of something photocopied. S— just shrugged.
I asked my brother B— for his take. He guessed it was “someone with an addled mind, or under some unnatural influence?” I’m intrigued by “unnatural” vs. “drug or alcohol.” The broader term “unnatural” doesn’t rule out the supernatural. Still, not a particularly compelling theory. As to 5 vs. 8, my brother couldn’t decide which and suggested I “just tune in to CBS straightaway and start watching, just in case.” I think this was disingenuous because he knows I don’t have cable, or even rabbit-ears. (Do Gen-Zers even know what rabbit-ears are/were? Well, my brother sure does. As kids we’d take turns standing next to the TV holding the aerial because that made it work better.)
I asked my older daughter for her theory. She suggested that the note is a puzzle of some kind, and that solving it would gain my wife and/or me entry into some elite club or cult. If we can’t solve it, we’re not allowed in.
Now, before you read further, it may well be that you have your own theory. If not, take a moment and think of one now. What, to you, seems like the most plausible scenario? Who wrote this note, and why?
Epiphany!
As I pondered all these theories, I suddenly had an epiphany, of the non-religious variety. Is it redundant to say “suddenly” I had an epiphany? Probably, since epiphanies don’t really dawn gradually on a person. Unless they do … probably the insight had been creeping up on me and suddenly achieved escape velocity. Maybe that’s always the way with epiphanies. But I digress (and I could go delete the last few sentences except I’ve kind of fallen in love with them … and yes, I’ve been warned against this, but like I said earlier, I have a sprained or at least wanged wrist).
The epiphany, alas, does not concern the origin of this note, nor its purpose. The note itself remains a mystery. The epiphany, rather, is this: whatever the intent of whoever left this note, the note has become like a Rorschach test. The theory a person puts forth can help shed a little bit of light on “where he or she is at,” as the expression goes. I decided to take a look at the theories in light of what I know about who advanced them:
|
Theory |
Theory’s author and his/her traits |
|
Would-be burglar looking for plausible alibi |
My wife, a protective mother |
|
Junkie who used to favor our front yard |
Myself, a protective father with a typical male thirst for hand-to-hand combat |
|
Spurned lover |
P—, an obviously lonely middle-aged man ;-) |
|
Homeless man seeking to have influence |
My younger daughter, a student who has yet to step onto the world stage |
|
Producer of the show trying to grow his audience |
S—, a film student and budding filmmaker |
|
Person who is addled or unnaturally influenced |
B—, a religious man with a wary eye |
|
Puzzle/intelligence test to screen potential club/cult members |
My older daughter who is studying for the MCAT and is understandably nervous about it |
Call to action
A minute ago I asked you to pause and come up with your own theory about who wrote this note and why. Now you see where I was headed: you can use your own response as a window into your soul. And with that, I’m going to call this a post … it’s Christmas Eve, after all, and I should be eating cookies with my family. Thanks for tuning in. Come back Sunday at 5 or 8 p.m. PST for another episode of … whatever!
—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—~—
Email me here. For
a complete index of albertnet posts, click here.
